


The Beast

by Ultradiplr



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Blood, Claws, F/M, Human/Monster Romance, Human/Vampire Relationship, Light Stalking, Masks, Masturbation, No Age Play, Penetration, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Size Difference, Slight Voyeurism, Vampire Sex, Vampires, but its really not that bad, cry jerking, fangs, gender neutral reader has a vag, i guess?, mentions of killing, non-sexual hypnosis, oh my!, the tags make this seem a lot worse than it actually is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 07:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultradiplr/pseuds/Ultradiplr
Summary: There was always something off about Lord Siebren de Kuiper and a chance accident shows you just what that is.
Relationships: Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr (ultradiplr.tumblr.com) in 2019. Originally two separate parts, I'm putting them together as two chapters of one fic. Doesn't contain any non-con or dub-con, and the violence takes place within Siebren's head, there is a lot of blood mentions, so fair warning.

The Carnival masquerade was in full swing in the castle. The esteemed guests, drunk with merriment as they celebrated the beginning of Lent. You on the other hand was very much sober, running around in a ridiculous black and white outfit identical to the other servers, white and gold rabbit masks and all, trying to serve the increasingly inebriated crowd as best you could.

Running around the floor, trying to avoid stepping or tripping on the massive, ornate clothing worth more than what you made in a lifetime was an awful task, especially with a tray full of open drinks and food. It was inevitable that you’d trip and fall and offend a lord or lady by staining their clothes, or that you’d ruin your own in the process, so you hoped that when it happened you’d be shown mercy. Until then you tried your damnedest to be quick and careful.

But alas, you were too quick, and not careful enough and ran straight into the chest of a guest at full force with a full tray of red wine on your way from the kitchen back to the ballroom, causing a loud crash as you fell to the floor with the heavy metal pan and broken glasses.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” You apologize panicky as you scramble to clean up the accident, trying to absorb the expensive liquid with the meager towel you had and collecting the shards of the fine crystal cups. “Please forgive me, my lord.” your voice wavered, a million different scenarios playing out in your head and how you’d be punished..

“It’s alright, my dear, it was an accident.” You hear the man say above as you kneeled in your mess.

“No, no, it’s not, I should have been mor- ow.” You cut your hand on a piece of glass as you try to continue apologizing.

You whimper with tears beginning to prick in your eyes as you put your mouth to it, still trying to clean with one hand licking away the blood that formed there. You thought you were prepared for this to happen but now that it did you could feel nothing but stress and panic. You still try to gather up the glass one handed, but you’re getting overwhelmed.

“Did you hurt yourself, liefste?” You’re taken aback when you hear his voice so close, and you look up to see he has bent down closer to you.

You’re frozen for a moment, looking at the intricately detailed mask, modeled off of the night sky and sparkling with tiny jewels, constellations and planets adorn the face on a deep black base, so dark you can’t even see the light hit it. The white and gold details coming together to point the viewer towards his eye where they pierced from the depth of black, sparkling like fine ruby jewels. Your breath is taken a little gazing into them and feeling of calm covers you, forgetting for a moment why you were so worked up.

“Your hand?” He asks in a rich, sweet tone that makes your muscles feel all warm, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Your hand slips from your mouth into his light hold, and you watch placidly as he takes it to examine, not questioning the lack of warmth from his own even as it causes goosebumps to erupt on your skin. You whimper when he thumbs the cut slightly, causing a few drops of blood to stain the blue fabric of his gloves, turning them into a deep purple.

“We need to get this bandaged, klein konijntje, least it get infected.” He says, and his eyes are darker when he looks back up at you.

You nod, and stand with him, a little voice in the back of your mind reminding you of the mess, of the guests waiting for their wine, of your boss and the trouble you’d be in not asking for permission to leave first. But your body is deaf to those voices, your body is numb to everything as he pulls you into his side, his hand still holding your bleeding one as the other wraps around your shoulder, covering you with the warmth of his cloak.

You feel strangely relaxed as he holds you close and leads you somewhere you don’t know, through corridors you know you’re not allowed through, further and further from the light and sounds of the grand ball, and deep and deeper into the cool castle. Eventually he leads you into the physician’s office, a place you definitely were never allowed in, though you’re unsure how he was able to with the way you took… come to think of it, you couldn’t actually remember any of the directions he lead you.

You must be tired… from the party… exhausted from the high stress… yes…. You were tired.

He helps you easily onto a table in the middle of the room and holds out your hand. You notice his glove is heavily strained with your blood, small blotches of purple covering his palm and fingers as he holds your hand so gently. You hiss when you feel the medicine dabbed gently onto your small wound, making a small shush come from under his masked face before he gently wraps a firm bandage around it.

“All better now, little rabbit.” He coos, large cold fingers petting over the bandages. 

His eyes look much too bright in the meekly lit room, piercing and cold, the goosebumps on your skin still have not dissipated, and now looking at him a shiver runs up your spine. You swallow thickly and try to collect your thoughts, suddenly very hard to think. His clean hand comes up to your mask, fingers lightly running over it, threatening to lift it. You feel something sharp under the soft, thin fabric of his glove as it grazes your skin ever so slightly, his nails drawing a smooth line to your face to caress you neck tenderly. 

You whimper again, feeling yourself flush, but something about this isn’t right, his eyes, his hands, his skin, they’re all wrong somehow, and when he makes to lean over you, your hands come up without thinking and pushes him away.

He seems as surprised as you are by that, and he snatches his hands away from you, taking several steps back. It feels like something is lifted from your shoulders as he creates space, and your brain feels less fuzzy.

“Th-thank y-ou, my lord.” You say, the words feeling sluggish and strained on your tongue, like you haven’t talked in a long time, “I sh-should re-return to the party.”

The reality of where you are is slowly setting in, and so is the anxiety. You shake and hold your head, trying to clear it. When you look up at him he’s looking at you, his eyes now dull and soft, and… scared? He looks away from you, gripping one hand to the other, like he was stopping himself from touching you. He looked incredibly tense, shaking ever so slightly, and when his eyes meet your again, there is a sort of pain inside you can’t quiet place.

“Yes, you should” He says suddenly very serious yet unsure, as he steps back toward you.

His hands, big and strong, finds and rests on your hips, and you blush under your mask. You hadn’t really thought about them before. You hadn’t thought about him at all while he was leading you around. He was a very large man. Very large. Tall and Broad, though his body hidden by the cloak he wore. It was intriguing. It was terrifying. How had you let him trap you in a room alone with him?

He helps you down before ushering you gently toward the door “I am very thankful, my lord.” You say quickly, you mind feels clear and your strength is coming back to you.

“SIebren, It is Siebren.” His voice is tinted with a wavy severity as he gently pushing you out into the quiet hallway, alone, “Now, you should run along before someone comes looking for you.” he begins to close the door behind you.

“Are you not returning to the ball, Lord Siebren?” You ask looking up at what little you could see of him.

“I am feeling a bit ill, I think I will stay here for a little while longer.” he says quickly, his voice becoming strained.

“Should I get someone to help y-” You take a step toward him and he closes the door firmly in your face.

“I will by fine, I just need rest, please, run along.” It sounds like he just grits that out through his teeth, and you could swear you hear him groan a little.

You stand outside, biting your lip, unsure of what to do. If he needs help, shouldn’t you offer it? He helped you after all. But then again, he had told you to return to your duties, and they are probably looking for you. But then again… You sigh and shake your head, turning to walk back to the main hall, whichever way that was.

—

Siebren rested his head against the door, groaning as he still could smell you so easily, standing just a few measly inches from him, with only the thick wood protecting you from him. He clenched his eyes closed and tensed his body, forcing himself to still as he waited and begged internally for you to just leave. 

It felt like eternity when you did, the soft patter of your shoes against the carpet dying off as you got further from him, though your scent still lingered heavily in the air. 

He sighed out the breath he was holding and relaxed, clean hand coming up to his face under the mask to pinch at the bridge of his nose to relieve the tension in his brain. It had been a long time since his affliction had flared so badly, and an even longer time since he’d actually tried to feed on a human. 

His stomach turned thinking about it, how he had used his powers to manipulate you, to calm you and get you alone, preparing you to be fed on, only to be saved by the will of the lord and your reflexive shock at feeling his claws on your skin. 

He knew he should have left the party as soon as it became late and scurried off to drink the sheep blood he uses to keep the hunger at bay in the privacy of his own keep, but no, he had to stay, had to have one last drink, have one last conversation, to see the king one last time.

Idioot. Idioot. He was pushing it, he knew it, and now look what he almost did! If he had just left he wouldn’t be here now, starving, aching, craving, locking himself away until he was sure he would not seek out and harm you. He felt on the precipice of a frenzy, and all because of a little cut and a few drops of blood!

He threw his mask down, sweating in the heat of it and the clothes he wore, hand running through his hair as the other clawed at the door. His body was being wracked with an unnatural heat, almost like he was alive again, almost like he had warm blood pumping through him, and he didn’t know how to process it.

It’d been so, so, so long since he’d been so close to human blood, the coppery sweet smell so distinctly human, so distinctly alive and fresh and warm, no animal could compare to it, and his body craved it so highly. Like the monster he was.

When he saw you lick your hand, clearing it away, hogging it so greedily, God, he felt a jealousy he could not describe. His mind had focused so much at that little motion that the only thing he could think of was devising a way to have his own taste. And that was what he was planning to do, to patch you up so you’d not spill another drop, and to take every last ounce of it from you for himself. And lord, he came so close, so damn close.

He punched the door, leaving a sizable crack from his strength, frustrated at himself for not doing it and at the same time for even trying in the first place. His mind was racked by conflicted feelings and his body was still warm.

He huffed loudly, trying to figure this all out. Trying to calm himself. He needed a release from all this energy. He needed something to calm him down until he could safely leave the castle. He needed… you…

He looked at his blood stained glove and a desperate thought filled his mind, one that immediately filled him with shame. Slowly, like he was trying to deny what he was doing, he brought his hand to his face, and inhaled deeply, groaning at the sweet smell of your blood so close to his face. His mouth watered but his throat felt dry as he opened his lips and carefully slipped a blood stained finger in.

He shut his eyes tightly, revolted with himself morally, but physically excited at the exquisite taste that hit his tongue, sweet, salty copper human blood, richer than any other kind. It lit a fire within him, a dangerous one, one that he knew he needed to extinguish soon. He moaned as his teeth grabbed into the glove, letting his hand slip from it and brace against the door, it too being marked by your blood.

His claws cling tightly to the already splitting wood as his other reached for his crotch, already half hard from finally tasting you. He needed to tire himself out, he told himself, but he knew this was just another sign of how much of a monster he was, hungering for you in every way.

He moaned around the fabric in his mouth as his hand slipped into his pants, gnawing on the strong fabric as his teeth sought flesh. He felt himself, hot and solid in his slack grip, as he teased himself to complete hardness, burying his head into the crook of his elbow. He pulled on himself, the costume giving him enough room to work with, as a string of moans were pulled from his chest with every smooth stroke. It’d been so long, so long. 

His mind made images dance in his head, of finding you right now and dragging you into the dark, of touching you, of tasting you. Your legs wrapped around his head, your hands pulling against his hair, of you coming undone underneath him in a bid to get you more relaxed, to get your blood nice and warm and pumping. Of holding you up against a wall, so short, so small, so eager, as he slowly enters you.

He pants as his grip tightens a little, the smooth fabric of his glove getting wet with his precum and letting him slide easily in his fist.

You’d be so tight, a little human compared to the great big monster he was, begging and crying for something you didn’t even know, clinging onto him for dear life. A meal all for him, begging for him to eat, to take, to devour. He’ll fuck into you so hard, so fast, like the animal he was, covering you with bites, making you bleed, playing with his food.

He can feel himself almost there, almost, his breathing is hard, and the only sound in the room is the sick wet slaps of his hard cock rutting into his tight fist. He whines as he sucks on the fabric in his mouth, the meager taste of you not enough and yet everything he needs.

He’d make you cum over and over, until your body is nothing but a limp ragdoll for him to use, until you can do nothing but beg him to eat you up, to take all thats left, because you’re so very thankful for him making you feel so good. And then he’ll bend down and kiss your pulse, fangs slipping as easily into you as his cock does.

He’ll drink from you as he completes, holding you close, feeling the warmth leave your body as he’s wracked by a pleasure unparalleled by anything else.

He shakes his head, his stomach flipping at the idea, tears prickling in his eyes, he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want that! He wants… he wants…. He thinks hard as he feels himself approaching the end, trying to overpower the sick beast inside him. His cock is hot and wet in his hand, and his fangs have finally punctured the fabric into his own lip, causing himself to bleed.

He wants to drink from you, to taste the source of this wonderful flavor. To feel you moan and mewl around him, your hot wet heat enveloping him and taking him. He wants you to accept him, all of him, and to bend your neck for him willingly. He wants to feel you shiver as he takes what he needs, and he wants to pull back to see you still warm and glowing with life.

“Thank you.” He says on a broken voice, spilling inside you as you still live, still breath, and still clench out him.

“Everything for you.”

The sound of your voice fills his head and he cums ropes into his fist and the pants of his costume, his body overflowing with that unnatural heat that for a moment almost makes him feel alive again. He gulps on air, shivering, shaking, as his body is wracked with conflicting feels again. Of relief, of dread, of hope, of sorrow, of energy, and total relaxation. 

He slumps against the door as his body cools to it’s normal ice cold temperature and pulls his cum covered hand from his pants, grimacing at the evidence of what he’d just done. He spits the glove in his mouth out, the blood having been washed around by the copious amounts of drool on it, and wraps it around the other before wrapping the whole thing in a handkerchief. Out of sight, out of mind. 

As his sane mind returns to him for now, he straightens what he can, and snatched up his mask again, pulling his cloak tightly around him as he steps out from the room, hoping nobody questions the marks he left on the back of the door.

The decent man in him wanted to apologize to you for what he thought of you and almost did to you, but he knew now wasn’t the best time… or maybe ever. He slipped out the back of the castle and collected his personal carriage, starting off toward his own keep, tired beyond belief.

It wasn’t until he was of sound mind again before daybreak, having drank enough sheep’s blood to satiate him, that he realized.

He’d never caught your name.


	2. The Beast Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been thinking of Lord Siebren since the party, conflicted and intrigued, and feel his presence where you go. You want him, but are you prepared for what that entails?

After the fog of his own doing had cleared from your mind that night and you had a moment to reflect, you knew instantly what he was.

A Monster. A Beast. A Vampire.

For months after the ball you could swear you felt the piercing red eyes of Lord Siebren on you wherever you went. You couldn’t see them, but you swore they were there, sending shivers down your spine every time you passed a darkened alley, a dark corner of your house, or settled down into bed, his eyes felt like they were there, watching, waiting… hunting. The eyes of a predator on their prey, that’s what it should feel like.

It should feel awful, uncomfortable, absolutely terrifying and yet it wasn’t. Dare say it was… so very… alluring, enthralling, and… god you didn’t know.

You spent many nights waking to the feeling of a presence in your room, shivers running up your spine from excitement. You lay awake waiting, hoping, that he’d make himself known to you, to say something, anything, but he never does. He’s just there. Patient. Quiet. Watching. Waiting. The morning light brought as much relief as it did disappointment, as you could feel yourself breath easily again in the lack of him and his terrifying, suffocating aura though a certain type of frustration you knew well filled you immediately after.

How many days has it been now that you pleasured yourself to the thought of him?

Hazy morning brain flooded with memories of his large cold hands, his bright, hungry red eyes, the sound of his sweet, smooth, honey voice, and his overwhelming build. Thoughts of him grabbing you by the hips, fingers digging into your skin, holding you, caressing you. A debased desire to have him fill you, to surround you, to hold and touch and kiss and… 

Your scarred hand tingles with the memory of him holding it and you held it close as your other snaked into your pants, rubbing yourself to the thought of him. Lord Siebren. His name tasted sweet on your tongue. Lord Siebren. You hoped that he could hear you, wherever he was hiding. Lord Siebren. His name got caught in your throat as you came, fast and sudden, like always, the intensity of your desire for him always catching you off guard.

You lay in bed, basking in the rising light through your window, staring into space and thinking about him. Wanting. Waiting. Hoping.

It takes every ounce of self control he can muster, which has slowly dried up as he’s come to “watch” you, not to come to your aid in those lonely mornings. His name on your lips as you find your pleasure, asking him, begging him to take you. That’s how he found you the first time, your call for him having reached out from deep in his mind and lead him to find you in the throws of self pleasure.

He wants to ease your frustration. Lord in heaven he wants to for he feels the same. But he’s afraid. Terrified. Of hurting you. Of taking advantage of you. Of devouring every last drop of life from you. It scares him, the idea of you being wiped from this earth because of him, but yet he lingers around you, watching, waiting, torturing himself.

And yes it is torture, being so near you with the memory of the meager taste of you on his lips, the memory of that night, of your warm body pressed against him as he lured you alone, the images he conjured up burned into his brain, it all tortured him and brought him nothing but pain as he continued to watch you. So close, yet so far.

He knew he was testing his limits like this, making it harder to control himself, but something was pulling him toward you again and again, pulling him out of his careful isolation longer and longer, away from the safety of his keep and into the dangerous day. Risking his life to see you, to hear you, alive and well, living and thriving, and glowing with bubbling life. Radiating warmth and light in his mind like the very sun you frolicked and lived under. Your smile, your voice, your skin, all beautiful and alluring to him.

He didn’t know how, but he’d become infatuated with you and for the unlife of him he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

You wake up, as you always do, when the moon is highest, with the feeling of someone else there. It was a strange feeling, a mixture of familiarity from it becoming such a normal part of your life by now and reflexive alarm at knowing just what lay in the shadows of your room. You looked around, as you always do, but see nothing. As you always do.

You lay back down, a headache forming from the inconsistency on what you felt and what you saw. Nothing. You see nothing. But you knew he was there. Like when the creatures of the forest knows when a wolf lingers, or a storm is brewing, or a tree is about to fall. It was a sense, a sense you could not explain, even to yourself. A sense of impending danger. A sense of impending thrill. A sense of impending… it didn’t matter.

Nothing will come of this. Nothing. It made you frustrated.

“If you do not wish to do anything, then at least let me rest.” You say, staring up at the dark ceiling from your bed. “I am tired of this game.” your brows furrow with a grimace.

There was a long silence, a silence you were sure was going to continue, until a whispered voice answered you.

“It is not a game.” He says, his long awaited honey voice sending goosebumps over your skin but you scoff at the idea.

“If it is not a game, why do you play with me so.” You spit out at him, sitting up. “Why not just get it over with.”

His breath gets stuck in his throat at the question, “I do not want to hurt you.” He admits shakily. “I truly don’t.” he’s taking steps toward you without thinking, pulling himself out of that ghostly state and making himself known.

“Then don’t.” You stare at the darkness at the foot of your bed, for the first time ever, just barely make out a figure in the room, slowly coming toward you.

“It is not that simple.” His voice is clearer as he comes nearer. “It hungers for you, it won’t be satisfied until every last drop of life is stolen from you.”

A full body shiver takes you at the implication, but the heat is rising in you as well, why was that so… intoxicating. “And that is not what you desire?”

“No, god no.” His voice is wavering, and for the first time, a hand pale and clawed reaches for you from the darkness, illuminated by the moonlight, “I want so much more.” his hand is snatched back quickly, back into the darkness.

The sentence is laced with so much want, so much pain, it hits you hard and you have an overwhelming need to comfort him. You stand upon your knees and walk to the edge of the bed toward him, realizing for the first time how much he really looms over you.

“What do you want?” Your scarred hand reaches out and touches upon soft fabric covering his hard chest, no warmth, no beating of a heart, just a solid wall of person.

His own engulf yours, no glove now to mask him. His skin felt weird, soft and smooth but… wrong. Something that just made you cringe just a bit, like the uncanny valley of touch. 

“To possess you.” The words felt awful on his tongue, admitting to you what he could never admit to himself before. “Too keep you, to make you mine and only mine, to see you live for me.”

You looked at him confused, “Why is that worse?”

The question sounds so innocent to him, so full of ignorance, but he could not blame you, you did not know what you were touching, asking, wondering. He would have laughed if it did not make his unbeating heart clench.

He shook his head, “It is selfish, like a farmer keeps his animals, you’d be no more than a meal in waiting.” he tried to reason with himself, surely that was the only reason for a monster like him to want you.

You tried to search his face in the darkness but could only see his eyes, reflecting what little light there was, holding the same fear they had that night when he dragged himself away from you.

“I don’t believe that.” Your other hand touched his face, caressing his high cheek, “I don’t believe you’re as bad as you say you are.”

He was amazed by your words, amazed at how wrong they were, amazed at your… your… stupidity, naivete, your misplaced trust and desire.

He took a step back toward the darkness, threatening to disappear again, “It doesn’t matter what you believe, it’s the truth, I’m a monster, why else would I be here?”

You held tight to his chest and pulled him back toward you, forcing him to lean down to you, where you captured his lips. He whimpered into the kiss, instantly leaning into you and forcing the kiss deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth to finally taste you. Satisfying. Relieving. Tortuous. When you pulled back the both of you were out of breath and he kissed your forehead.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He says strained, already leaning you back onto the bed, hand quickly roaming your body.

“I don’t.” You admit breathlessly as his hands quickly undo your pants, “So, show me.”

He moaned at the way you say that, feeling his normally still and cold blood start to pump through him, warming him, making him harden. His fingers easily found your opening, marveling at the wetness already there.

“Why are you-” He begins but you cut him off with a kiss,

“I’ve been preparing for you for a long time, Lord Siebren, you must know that~” You whisper in his ear, encouraging his hand to explore with your own.

His chest and loins ache at the memory of his name on your lips as he left you everyday, the way it rolled off your tongue as you reached your peak without him, asking, begging for him. He had too much control then, but now… now he didn’t know what he was doing, what became of him.

When his fingers sunk into your warm entrance you tensed a little, his cold fingers were a strange sensation, but not unpleasant, especially as they reached so much farther than your own. He stretched you out carefully, steadily, watching with amazement as his fingers pulled out and delved into you, a sight he hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. 

You were so smooth, so slick, so HOT, almost burning compared to him, but he couldn’t stop, not while you panted and mewled and rolled your hips at him, not as you slowly relaxed and took more fingers, not as he watched you come undone under him in the way he desperately wanted for so long.

You were ethereal to him as you glowed under the scant moonlight, warm and lively, quivering under his touch, fluttering and clenching around his digits as you came from his ministrations. He felt himself grow greedy watching you in the throws of passion, working you to over stimulation, wanting every last drop of desire from you.

When you finally had enough you yanked his hand from yourself easily. You looked up at him, vision a little unfocused from the onslaught he put you through. He looked absolutely enthralled and it made your heart flutter.

“No more games,” You said as serious as you could, considering the circumstances.

“Yes, forgive me.” He says in an intake of breath. “I am just…”

“Surprised, me too.” You tease and bring him into another kiss, hands venturing down his broad body and to his belt.

He rested his head on yours as he watched you release him, shivering at the feeling of your warm, almost burning warm, hands on his hardened member. You marvel at it, so much stranger than any other cock you’ve ever handled, human of course, but off, just like the rest of him. Not necessarily a sickly color but an unusual one, here he did feel warm, if just a little. Your hand just wrapped around it, fingertips brushing around it, and you moved it along him, wanting to commit to memory every thing that made him moan.

He let you stroke him, not wanting to ruin the wonderful sight of you holding him in your hand, finally, after all this time, after all this longing. He groaned as you thumbed his slit and he canted in your hand, releasing a few drops of precum. The unusual warmth had come back to him, like that night but only so much worse. So much more intense. He was sure he was dying this time.

He did not last long in your hand, and came onto your fist as he moaned loudly and clawed at your headboard, leaving deep grooves in the wood. He was still rock hard, not unusual for him, but you were more amazed at his cum which made him blush as you took an experimental taste. You were amazed to find it flavorless but it was a bit… viscous. Interesting.

“You’re a strange creature, Lord Siebren, you fascinate me.” You say up at him and his breath is caught in his throat at the genuine nature of your words.

“And you are much the same for me.” He confesses quietly but loudly enough for you to hear, and flush with a new heat. 

Who knew a seven foot cryptid like him could be so cute?

You lead in repositioning yourself onto your stomach, propped up by your scant pillows and blanket to help with the size difference as he hunched over you from behind, hands firmly on your waist and head hooked around your shoulder at your neck, a dangerous position to be in but he was too gone with desire to understand that.

You bit your lip as you felt him move against you, starting slow by rubbing against your backside a few thrusts before his tip caught your entrance and he slowly slid in, covered in his and your slick. You cried out at the stretch, and he shivered wildly as he tried to force himself to slow down, for both of your sakes, already feeling his control starting to slip.

His tongue lazed out of his mouth, licking a stripe on your smooth next, kissing your pulse as he felt you flutter around him. You hung your head and focused on relaxing, urging him further with encouraging moans and small thrusts backwards. His hands, strong and large, held you mostly in place but your efforts did not go unnoticed as he chuckled darkly in your ear.

“So impatient, little rabbit, do you not see your own hubris tempting the wolf.” He says cryptically, making you whimper as he bites very lightly at your neck, leaving a small mark easily.

When he finally hilts within you he stills, claws digging into your skin just a little, trying his damnedest not to break skin as he tensed, knowing that he had instantly grown addicted to this simple feeling. The velvety, warm, tight pressure of you your body around him, alive, pumping all that deliciously hot and tempting blood around him. For a monster like him that surely had hell waiting for him whenever that time came for him, he could only assume that this was as close to heaven he will ever get.

He only began moving with your say so, and he did so slowly, easing himself out and then into you, feeling the way you pulled on him just a little as he exited and how you sucked him greedily back in when he pushed in. Out and in. Out and In. A steady rhythm that he kept, even as you begged for more, even as you pulled lightly at his hair, even as you panted in his ear, even as you tried to push back against him. He needed to keep steady, knowing in his heart that no, you were not ready for all of him right now, not until he was sure he would not hurt you from it.

It felt like an eternity with his slow pace driving you insane. Like torture. So mean. Had he not tortured you enough these past few months? And yet he continues to tease. Continues to play with you! And you thought the frustration of him not fucking you was awful!

“Please Lord Siebren, I can handle you, please.” You cried, actually cried, the frustration bubbling out of you in hot tears, “I need more.”

More? He could give you more. But at what cost to you? To himself? He shook his head, voice stuck in his chest as you squeezed him, an underhanded tactic if he ever saw one and in response he stilled completely, smiling internally at the yell that was pulled from you.

“Oh, why are you so cruel!” you wailed, bunching the sheets in your tight fists.

One hand left your hip to intertwined with your hair, pulling your head back lightly as he tutted in your ear, “Do not mistake my empathy with cruelty my dear, I have already told you I wish you no harm.”

“You will not harm me.” You beg, trying everything in your strength to get him to start to move again.

It’s a useless gesture, considering he has you pinned against your bed so easily, but still you persist and he has to give you some credit. “How do you know that, my dear, have you forgotten what I am?”

You shake your head and he is unsatisfied, “Tell me then.”

You bite your lip and are suddenly hesitant to say it out loud before he snaps his hips back and forth harshly, pushing the answer from your chest violently, “A vampire.” you moan.

“Yes, a vampire, a monster, that should make you fear for your life.” He bites, starting up a brutal pace, one that you are immediately thankful for, “yet here you are begging for things you don’t understand.”

“Yo-you’re no- Ah~ monster” You try to say but words are getting lost to you as you’re rapidly reaching your peak. “I- ah~ trust you.” you barely got out.

“Your trust is misplaced.” His beast was roaring within him, so close to the surface he was becoming unsure of where it started and he began anymore. “You are a fool.”

His hips picked up more, the words you speak filling him with a mixture of elation and dread, you trusted him, but had he somehow manipulated that trust from you? Was what you say true, or just words made up by your lust addled brain? Or worse, had he somehow implanted those thoughts into you? He didn’t know. And it was terrifying.

He groaned and buried his head next to yours, feeling his teach elongate and to puncture you, but he will not give his body the satisfaction, instead biting his own lip and causing him to bleed his cool, cold blood onto himself.

You’re shocked to feel cold liquid drip onto your shoulder, and when you turn your head to see what was happening you moaned at the sight of him, focused hard, blood dripping down his chin, face red and brows furrowed, chasing his own pleasure yet holding whatever was inside him back. You felt yourself come right upon your peak and crash suddenly, surprising both of you.

His hips continued pumping into you at a brutal pace, worse now as you squeezed him in your completion, giving him all the go ahead he needs to pursue his own end. His mind was nothing but a flurry of awful, erotic thoughts, mostly centered on plunging his fangs deep in your neck as he cums, and tasting your right from the source. It was making his cock throb as much as it was making his heart break, and he knew deep down he really was no better than a beast.

He came soon after you, ramming himself as deep as he could go and halting there, filling you his cum, heavy and strange within you, yet awfully satisfying. His body convulsed as he emptied into you, and he pushed you deeper into your mattress, wanting every last drop to rest snugly inside you. He didn’t know why, perhaps left over desires from when he was human, lord knows he was unable to impregnate you.

He stayed still until he softened, and then pulled from you with a shudder, feeling his release spill after him. He looked at your bottom half, grimacing at the scratches and the already bruising hand marks blossoming on your hips, though a strange sense of pride also filled his chest, a sense he did not want to linger on. He was fixated on the sight of his seed spilling from your aching hole when your voice called out to him.

“Strange creature indeed.” You say and he looks up to see you are examining the blood he left on you, dark, very dark, nearly black in the moonlight, with a maroon reflection. 

An overwhelming sense of guilt filled him looking at you, the whole picture, marked up by him and covered in blood. His blood sure. His blood for now. For now? Did he want to do this again? Risk your safety again? No. No he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He won’t-

“Did you mean what you said, about wanting to keep me?” You ask softly, turning around under him to face him.

You’re still red and panting, still alive and thriving, and asking something he takes a moment to process as he’s in awe of your beautiful visage in the moonlight.

“Yes.” he says carefully, holding his breath, knowing exactly where you are going, but unbelieving nonetheless

“I would not… mind… being… kept… if you will have me.” You are hesitant to ask, gathering that it was a tall order for him, to keep you around him and bate back the beast within him.

But the idea of never doing this again. Of never holding him. Never feeling him. It made you sad. You wanted him to be here with you forever, or you to be with him, it didn’t matter, as long as he could hold you like tonight for the rest of your life, you’ll be happy.

“Are you sure because next time… that blood could be yours.” He asks, already standing and going to collect you in his arms.

You cling to him, feeling his strong arms holding you up like you weighed nothing, so powerful, so strong, so careful. Whether he knew it or not, you read him clearly, he was infatuated with you too much, and you feared not the beast he did. You trusted him.

“It’s a risk I am willing to take.” You say calmly, snuggling into his broad chest and the soft fabric of his rich clothing.

He smiled tiredly and nodded his head, without much hesitation, leaped from your window, and out into the night, taking you home. His home. Your Home. Together.

He might not know how long he can control the beast with you so near now, but he trusted your confidence, and that soothed him in a way he could never fully understand. His beast was now yours, and together perhaps you’ll tame it.

Though It seems you’ve already done that.


End file.
